


Ain't No Place for No Hero

by Comp_Lady



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Gen, hints at rayvin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-21
Updated: 2014-04-21
Packaged: 2018-01-20 07:35:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1502075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comp_Lady/pseuds/Comp_Lady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Capitol say they are heroes, that every tribute is a hero, putting themselves at risk to have to lay down their lives. It never changes the fact that everyone feels ill when the reaping comes around though. everyone wishes they could pull every slip of paper that has their name on it out of the globes. The districts aren't a home for heroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ain't No Place for No Hero

_“You’ll be fine!”_

The words probably come easy. Paired with Gavin’s smile it probably made is easy for the group of 12 years olds to relax.

_“It’s your first years, your names are only in there once. One scrap of paper among hundreds!”_

Ray doesn’t look up from his hands, he has a small pile of shredded grass in front of him. One scrap of paper… except that neither Gavin nor Ray will have just one slip this year.

_“You won’t be picked. You’ll be fine.”_

Trying to keep their hopes up was dangerous.

* * *

The yard is gravel and dust, sections roped off by age and gender. At the front a huge cement slab stage, A single microphone on its stand in the center. Opposite the stage, at the far back of the yard, was an area sectioned off by chicken wire. This was where the families stood.

Dust is kicked into the air, creating a grey haze, as everyone shuffles into their proper area. No one makes a sound; the silence is heavy, interrupted only by the crunch and shuffle of gravel, the beeps of readers.

Propaganda plays and the Escort from the Capitol gives her short speech.

The Escort is a bright blot of color against the drab of the yard. In an acid green dress and glittering gold wig that was a mass of perfectly formed ringlets. She has a wide, simpering smile and she sways from side to side as she speaks. Her high-pitched voice echoes through the yard, loud and grating.

“Now!” She crows, “It is times for us to choose our courageous candidates who will have the _utter_ honor of representing our district in this year’s Hunger Games.”

Gavin can see her teeth when she smiles, even from his spot near the back of the yard.

“Let us start with the Gentlemen this year, shall we?”

She glides over to the large glass bowl to her left and, after casting another simpering smile at the boys, delicately reaches into the bowl. The Escort hovers her hand over the little slips of paper, swaying it back and forth lazily.

Gavin shifts from foot to foot, craning his neck in an attempt to find Ray in the section in front of his own. There’s too much distance and too many people in between them though, finding anyone he knows in the crowd is difficult. A sharp pain in the back of his leg distracts him.

“ _Gavin,_ ” Dan’s voice is little more than hiss, “stand still! Do you want to to draw attention to yourself?”

 _‘Right.’_ Gavin slumps back down, hopes that none of the officials noticed. Attention is not a good thing to attract at this time.

Up on the stage the Escort hums, swaying a bit, before snapping her hand deep into the bowl, as if her hand were a viper lashing out to attack. When she withdraws her hand there is a little slip of cream paper held between her forefinger and thumb. She glides back to the microphone, paper held above her head as if it were a jeweled butterfly wing. Precious and valuable.

The boy in front of Gavin whispers “pompous bitch” under his breath and Gavin can’t help but agree. That paper is a death sentence. Every person in the yard knows it.

The Escort Snaps the wax sealing the paper, letting it fall to the ground. She clears her throat, a prim little noise, and the entire crowd tenses.

“Ray Narvaez Jr.”

Gavin can’t hear anything beyond the roaring in his ears. He watches numbly as the boys in Ray’s section move and shift. They are backing away, he realizes, separating themselves from the tribute. As if being in contact with him would infect them with some disease. As if he was a contagion.

Ray moves into the center aisle and is flanked by guards.

Gavin is moving before he fully understand the implication of what he’s doing. All he knows is that this can’t happen, Ray can’t be tribute.

_He just can’t!_

Ignoring the exclamations of those he rushes past, Dan calling his name in alarm, Gavin heads straight for the center aisle. Hopping the low hanging rope he stumbles and falls. Gravel bites into his palms and shifts and flies under his feet, preventing him from getting back up.

“Ray!”

Ray turns around at his name, eyes wide.

Gavin lurches to his feet, straight into the arms of a pair of guards.

“No, NO!” He shouts, pushing at their arms.

The guards are steering Ray away, up to the stage. Gavin shoves harder at the arms holding him back.

“I volunteer!”

The guards holding him let go, jerking away as if burned. Once again the yard is quiet, all eyes are locked on Gavin.

“I volunteer in his stead. I volunteer as tribute.”

The silence is suffocating. No one dares to breathe as they wait for the Escort’s verdict, if she’ll accept. She sways side to side, face unreadable, tapping long, shimmering gold nails on the microphone stand. Narrow eyes assessing the scene.

Gavin wants to scream.

The Escort’s face breaks into a toothy smile. “Excellent,” she croons, “we have our first volunteer!”

The guards step back as Gavin rushes forward. Ray clings to him when he pulls him into a hug, gripping his shirt tightly.

Pulling back Gavin holds him by the shoulders, “Ray, you need you to go.”

“Gav, no!”

“Ray listen—“

“You can’t!”

“—go find— go... Geoff and Griffon....”

“Gavin!” Ray grabs at his arms, hard enough to bruise, panic in his eyes.

The gravel crunches with the approach of someone new, Gavin looks up to see Barbara. Her face is pinched and she won’t look at him. Instead she pries Ray’s hands off his arm and and loops and arm around his shoulders. Barbara turns on her heel and drags Ray to the back of the yard where Geoff and Griffon stand.

Ray’s shouts echo through the yard and Gavin has to force himself not to look back. The moment Gavin is on his feet the guards turn him to the stage and march him forward to the stairs that lead up the side of the stage. The Escort hovers at the top, bent at the waist and beckoning for him. As if she was giving him some grand prize.

Her nails glitter as she waves for Gavin to hurry. “Come! Hurry along now, dear,” she urges. “Now is not the time to dawdle.”

Gavin almost stumbles again when he reaches the top but is steadied by the Escort grabbing him by the shoulders with surprisingly strong hands. They are like talons, glittering gold talons. He watches his feet as he walks (plain black work boots stumbling along next to glittering green heels) and idly wonders if everyone in the capitol dresses as shiny as the Escort does.

“Ah! Here!” The Escort stops and spins Gavin to the side. His gaze snaps up. The faces that look back are miserable; none of Gavin’s friends will look him in the eye.

He wants to throw up.

“Well then, what is your name?”

The microphone swings in front of him. His head is swimming and his throat feels thick. “Gavin Free.” The broken voice that echoes across the yard can’t be his, he doesn’t want to believe it. The microphone swings away.

“Well I’d put a good bet on that boy being very important to you. Almost like a brother, hmm?”

The microphone is back in front of him and he can hardly choke out an answer. He can see Ray in the back, leaning against Griffon for support. Griffon has one hand tangled in the sleeve of Geoff’s shirt, the other covers her mouth. Gavin’s stomach rolls. The Escort doesn’t notice (or maybe just doesn’t care), already she’s swinging the microphone back in front of herself.

“How lovely.” She says, clasping her hands together, “Well, congratulations on being our district’s first ever volunteer.”

Gavin hardly registers her hollow claps, or the farewell gesture given by the crowd standing below. Reality was hitting him full force with all the delicacy of an angry bull. He had volunteered. He is a tribute.

_He is going to die._

**Author's Note:**

> [Idea from here.](http://comp-lady.tumblr.com/post/48675537045/ragehappy-fic-ideas-that-are-bouncing-in-my-brain)
> 
> [Hey! You can find me on Tumblr, come chat :D](http://comp-lady.tumblr.com)
> 
> This fic has been over a year in the making. I won't go into details here because they are lengthy but I will say that I am so glad that this story is finally out to the world.


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